


An Empty Feeling

by RedFiretrucks



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Self depreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 22:39:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1619522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedFiretrucks/pseuds/RedFiretrucks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean is sick of being alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Empty Feeling

The sheets are warm, but I feel awfully cold. The air is thick and hot and sticky, but there is no way that I am going to pull myself out from beneath my sheets. The world out there is cruel and cold and even if it's uncomfortably warm where I am now, it's ten times better than the shit that's going on out there. Even if they're a little scatchy, it's vaguely reminescent of the movie nights my mom and I shared when I was little, when we used to curl up on the couch and watch movie after movie. I miss those days. Back then, I didn't feel so bad, so alone. 

The mattress is hard, but it's enough. I'd rather sleep in the safety of my own room than on the comfortable couch where I risk being seen by my parents. I don't want anyone to see me like this and realise that, no, I'm not okay. No, I'm not unbreakable because I have good grades and a seemingly stable road to the future. I don't want anybody to break through the crumbling walls that I've put up and see that I'm hurting. I can deal with this myself. There's no need to drag anybody else into it. Except maybe for him, because I think he's exactly what I need to remedy this empty feeling.

I twist within the tangle of blankets I've acquired, laying on my side and bringing my knees to my face so that my forehead rests against them. My eyes burn with the effort of holding back tears as I hug my knees with one arm, the other pinned beneath my head in a feeble attempt to mimic a pillow. My straw-like hair is poking me in the eyes, too, which isn't helping as I feel my cheeks dampen. Damnit. I lost. Hastily, I wipe the tears away with the arm hugging my knees, though it's not as if anybody's in here to see me cry. I smooth back my hair and it defiantly sticks up, looking messy and gross. Just like me. Maybe that's why he doesn't like me. I mean, I know we don't talk that much, but he just seems really great. Too great, in fact, for a loser like me. I'm two years his junior, anyways, and he's just broken up with that Bertholdt kid. Bertholdt disgusts me. Ugh. Bertholdt always made those eyes at him while he assisted the teacher in teaching us math.

I feel foreign, a Sophomore in Senior math, but I knew him from Spanish the previous semester. He was pretty much the only one that I knew, so even though I didn't talk to him much, I felt some sort of... kinship, I guess you could call it. He would help me when I got stuck or when I messed a problem up, and over the course of the year, I couldn't help falling for him. 

He has olive skin and chocolate hair with stunning brown eyes to match. His whole body (or at least what I've seen) is covered in freckles, spread especially thickly over his cheeks and forearms. When he smiles, he smiles with his whole face. His eyes light up, crinkle at the edges, and he adopts the cutest damn dimples I've ever seen. It's not fair that somebody could possibly be that handsome. And he was so nice. He had a soft voice, so warm and inviting, that even me (the resident asshole) couldn't stand to be rude. And over time, I found myself melting everytime he looking in my general direction. I'd answer a few more questions in class, hoping that he'd notice me. When I messed up, I'd get kind of flustered, and he would come over and check to see what I did wrong. Then we'd walk through it, and once I figured it out, I would always make sure to say thank you after. Always. But then he would go over and check on Bertholdt, and I could hear their voices as they talked. It left a sour taste in my mouth.

Anyone who didn't know the facts would see me as a jealous creep. If they did know the facts, however, they would know that Bertholdt was cheating on him with Reiner Braun, captain of the football team. I'd always looked up to Bertholdt, even though he was dating the object of my affections, until I found out that he was cheating. On him. On _Marco_. I'm pretty laid back when it comes to a lot of things, but cheating absolutely disgusts me. Maybe it's because I'm a hopeless romantic, or maybe it's because I've seen what break-ups under other circumstances can do, but just imagining the pain one must feel when they find out that their partner, the one that they bear their heart to, has or is cheating on them makes me sick. If you're in an open relationship or a polyamorous thing, that's different, but if you go behind your partner's back when they want you and only you to give yourself to somebody else, I will probably punch you in the face. If you're unhappy or dissatisfied with your partner, just _leave_. Damnit, why do people have to cheat? Especially on an angel like Marco. God, pretty much the whole school knew except for Marco. He eventually found out, though. I wanted to cry.

One day, Bertholdt didn't show up to class. He and Marco almost always arrived together, so when Marco walked into class looking dissheveled and tired and just so _sad_ , I assumed that he'd found out. He was very unfocused and had a hard time assisting that day, but he pulled through. At one point, I called him over to help me on a problem (a very rare occurance because I always feel like I'm bothering him when I do), and he was so scrambled that he couldn't even explain a simple exponential equation. He tried frantically to understand it, running his hands through his greasy hair and apologising because he just couldn't figure out the problem (which I'd figured out before he came over). Up close, I saw the redness of his eyes, indicating a lack of sleep and possible crying. My heart was breaking. He was rambling on and on about something, some ridiculous formula that made no sense whatsoever, when I stopped him. 

"Marco," I said, gently touching his arm. He flinched at the contact, meeting my eyes. "It's fine. I think I can do it. But... you should go to the nurse, get some rest, yeah?" He looked conflicted, like he didn't know whether to give in or to run away. I repeated his name, softer this time but with definite resolution. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair again, though now he bore a somber smile. 

"Okay, Jean," he said softly, voice tired but warm. "Thank you." I just gave him an understanding nod. Seeing him like that was absolute hell. He was such a nice guy, but he just had to date the bad people. Our school doesn't have a large gay community, but those who are gay aren't ridiculed or anything. Marco had dated both girls and guys, though he tended to lean towards the latter, and he and Bertholdt had been dating for three or four months when this went down. I don't know how strongly Marco felt for Bertholdt, or vice versa, but I do know that Marco was absolutely devastated when they broke up. I see him in the hallways sometimes, and on the few occassions that I've seen him see Bertholdt, the dejection on his face is the literal saddest thing I've ever laid eyes on. He doesn't deserve that bullshit, and Bertholdt never deserved him. When I see Bertholdt and Reiner walking around, holding hands, I want to scream at them and beat them up and spit on them. I don't, of course, because I'm a scrawny Sophomore who only has a few friends to back me up. It's the thought that counts, though. 

So here I am, pining for a kid who I don't know well enough to say that it's love but that I know enough to understand that this isn't just a silly crush. My skin feels like it's hollow, like I just need someone to hold me and cuddle me and kiss me. I just need somebody to tell me that I'm worth it and that they love me as much as I love them, someone who let me sit on their lap and kiss every one of their freckles until we have to get up and eat because we won't last forever without food. I want somebody who I can cook for, who will eat my food even if it's not that great because even if it's bad, he'll laugh and I'll get to see those dimples and the crinkles around his eyes and his white smile. I want to run my hands through their chocolate hair, my fingers through their stupid bangs that flop over their forehead and part the hair and kiss their forehead and laugh because I'll just be so happy that they love me and I love them. I want to wake up each morning knowing that somewhere, there's some nerd with brown hair and matching eyes and olive skin that's covered with freckles more numerous than the stars in the sky thinking about how much he loves me. Right now, I just really want to curl up against his side, have his arms around me and snuggle against the warmth of his chest, the warmth that is so much more valid than the humid stickyness enveloping me right now as I breathe raggidly in and out beneath my covers, alone. I hate being alone. 

I'm so sick of being alone.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is too-fabulous-for-this.tumblr.com go yell at me there


End file.
